


How to Survive Tartarus

by Lucenthia



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Oneshot, implied solangelo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 09:37:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7796761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucenthia/pseuds/Lucenthia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Have you just been through hell? Need some help on how to survive it? If so, you've come to the right place! Come and get Nico di Angelo's guide on how to survive Tartarus in four easy steps! See discussions on how to act like you're nothing, learn about how Tartarus stays with you, that things actually do get better, and more!</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Survive Tartarus

Listen here. You have to be small. No, you have to be nothing. That’s the first rule down there. You need to act like you’re nothing, like you aren’t even there. I learnt that lesson quickly. I fought monsters until my muscles were shaking and my ligaments were stretched to breaking point, but there’s only so much you can do, and so much more that Tartarus can throw at you.

I had just cut down another Telekhine. Or was it a Dracnae… or something else. I forget, and it doesn’t matter. I turned and there’s this Cyclops barreling out of the ground towards me. Normally they’re easy to kill, just slash its legs until it falls and stab the eye. You need good aim or else it glances off the skull and you’ve got more work on your hands. But my legs were shaking from exhaustion, and I just let its fist slammed into my shoulder.

I went sprawling into sharp gravel and got lucky for once. The Cyclops had punched me into the shadow of a boulder. As it charged towards me, and I took a deep breath and shadow traveled. Shadow travelling is normally like a roller coaster. You step in, you get shaken about as you go _fast_ through complete darkness, and then you come out the other end just fine. But the darkness I normally relied on was tainted, or maybe Tartarus itself was messing with me, or maybe I was just weak. I don’t know.

I was being torn apart in the shadows, being pulled at by claws I couldn’t see. A deep voice rumbled at me to give up, let go, just forget about everything and never open my eyes. I gasped and remembered myself. I clung onto the memories of Minos teaching me the ways of the dead, and of what Percy looked like the night he saved me from Dr. Thorn.

I tumbled out on the shores of the River Acheron and almost fell in. That would have been bad. My limbs were twitching and felt like jelly, and I was feeling unnaturally cold, like I had a fever. White spots danced in front of me as I tried to focus. The river seemed to widen and narrow, and I could see souls burning in the middle. Faces with gaping holes for eyes and mouths rose to meet me, and I leaned closer without realizing.

In case you haven’t guessed, falling into the River Acheron—or any river from the Underworld—is bad. The River Acheron was the river of pain, and if I fell in my soul would probably sizzle in there for all eternity. Or maybe sizzle for a few centuries and get devoured by Tartarus. Fun stuff like that.

When my nose was inches from the river I drew back. I could feel monsters all around me drawing closer and knew I had to run. That was when I learnt the first rule. I took a deep breath and let the shadows come to me. I curled up on the riverbank and tried to hide my presence. I shivered and my thoughts went around in circles. I could feel them slithering towards me, salivating at the thought of clawing through my dry skin or popping my eyeballs between their jagged teeth.

You have to focus when you’re in that situation. I did it by focusing on the shadows. They’re not just absences of light, they’re bits and pieces of Nyx, Chaos, and a bit of my dad. I draw my power from the abyss, but here in Tartarus they tried to draw me in.

I was okay with that. I imagined myself disappearing but not reappearing. Just staying in the shadows, a flicker of light behind the enemy, a rustle next to you that might be the wind. I told myself I was nothing. My eyes closed and I slipped away. 

* * *

 

Your wounds don’t heal. That’s the second rule. Your wounds don’t become scars, and what scars you had before falling into Tartarus won’t fade. You’ll keep on bleeding out of every wound, and every ache in your body just gets worse. The beatings I had taken from the monsters were catching up with me, even in my shadow form. I wasn’t truly a shadow. I wasn’t actually nothing, even if it was a close call sometimes. So even when I usually felt a cold breeze where my limbs should be and passed through monsters like I was wading through sludge, I could feel. I ached all over. I stumbled more and more, and sometimes fell on the ground and slept there.

I let my face rest on Tartarus’ dry skin and felt its heartbeat. It reached out to me and invited me into its depths. I was so small, you see. Sometimes I couldn’t feel myself at all. I would close my eyes and forget that heat and monsters outside was my reality, not the darkness. Tartarus would be the dream and the only thing I had left was the blackness.

But always my wounds and scars ran with me. My head ached no matter where I was, and that’s not to mention the wounds inside me. I admit it, I dreamt of Percy. Now I can talk about it like it wasn’t painful, but trust me, it was. I would imagine seeing him walking through Tartarus, untouched by monsters. I would see him kissing Annabeth, or the two of them walking away into the red mist.

I would close my eyes for a second, or maybe several hours, and they would be gone. I would struggle to my feet and feel like crying, except for shadows don’t cry because they barely exist, and who looks at a shadow?

But wounds never fade down there. 

* * *

 

The third rule is that Tartarus stays with you. Even though Gaea’s dead and you’re back in the mortal world, it’s following you. I see it in Percy and Annabeth too. Their hands go straight to their weapons when they’re startled. They’re both up in the middle of the night, and they sometimes walk around camp. The harpies don’t come near any of us. Grover said we smell different, of destruction and evil. Maybe monsters are scared of us for once.

I avoid Percy and Annabeth at night, of course. What they go through is private. I leave them to their moonlight strolls through the forest.

The nights are when I’m most comfortable. For Percy and Annabeth it means nightmares, but for me it means the familiar shadows that I can touch. They creep towards me and I feel the usual chill that comes with my fading. It feels natural and my mortal body feels clunky. Sometimes I wake up transparent. Sometimes I wake up under my bed because I’ve accidentally slipped through the mattress and bed frame.

I said I was comfortable at night, not safe.

The days aren’t any better. The heat from the sun reminds me of the heat seeping from Tartarus. If I close my eyes and lie down, the grass turns into bugs crawling over my skin, and the rustling of tree branches are claws unfurling and stretching towards me. Every time a camper passes by, my fingers curl around my sword.

I can feel the monsters in my sword now. Stygian Iron absorbs the essence of monsters instead of sending them back to Tartarus. I never noticed them before. Now I feel their clamouring when I rest my fingers on the blade, like they’re beating on the iron trying to get out. I hear them when I walk in the sunshine and wave to Jason, and when I smile and tell Will everything’s okay.

The monsters follow me during the day. The night is when I have to remember I’m not just a shadow, and I sometimes forget that. When I wake I’m sometimes surrounded in darkness and the monsters hiss at me from everywhere at once. My limbs don’t respond. I see the glint of scales and an unveiled fang. Grey eyes fix their gaze on me. I try to scream but can’t because shadows are silent.

The sunlight brings me back. Warmth seeps into me and I can feel my toes and the way the bedsheets cling to my legs. I open my eyes and blink at the sunlight blazing through my open window, then shuffle out of bed and into some clothes. They smell because I haven’t washed them in ages. Some day I might get around to it.

I’m being a little misleading. Sorry about that. I’m focusing on the visions and fading away and it sounds like Tartarus is this dramatic monster you can fight. Well, it’s sneakier than that. Tartarus isn’t just nightmares and hallucinations in the dark. It’s that wretched feeling in your gut when you hate people just for being so happy, then feeling guilty at what a shitty person you are.

There was one time I saw Jason and Piper holding hands and laughing. They waved me over, but I shook my head and walked away. They still expect so much of me, even now, and no one wants to disappoint a friend. Sometimes you’ll wonder if they’re just faking it, just being polite. Sometimes you won’t know why anyone would want to be friends with you.

Tartarus stays by reminding you that your friends deserve better. When you lie on your bed and skip camp activities because _why bother_ Tartarus is there. It reminds you of the fact that you haven’t eaten in the last twenty-four hours, and makes you painfully aware that it’s been five hours since you woke up and swore that today was the day you would actually _do_ something.

I still don’t know why Will sticks by me, because I was a mean little shit to him. One day he came my cabin and brought me a sandwich to eat. “Come on, Nico. Starvation’s a real thing.”

“I don’t care. Is that a real thing too?”

“Seeing as you’re not eating, it’s got to be.” Will sat on the bed and pulled on my leg. “Come on out. There are these new campers and it’s their first day on the climbing wall. It’s always fun to watch.”

I just shrugged and buried my face in my pillow. I tried to ignore Will shaking me. He said, “Alice from the Hermes cabin is in charge of the betting. Five to one odds that they last fifteen seconds.”

“Good for you.” I mumbled. “Go out and enjoy the show.”

“Nico.” Will whined, “Just come out for a bit. Walk around a little.”

“Just leave me alone!” I rolled around to give Will the finger. “If you’re so happy, then what are you doing here?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to piss you off.”

“Just go.” I rolled around again and shoved the pillow over my head. “Go back to your perfect _fucking_ life out there.”

I guess what I’m trying to say with this rule is that Tartarus isn’t all pits of fire and giant sludge and sheer destruction. It’s seeing yourself alienate your friends and wondering what you’re doing, and why you’re acting like such a monster. It’s wondering if you deserve to be alive. Tartarus does its best to convince you that you _belonged_ there.

On the worst days, you believe it with all your heart. 

* * *

 

You get better. That’s the last rule I’ve got for you, but if I find out any more, I’ll tell you. This one’s the hardest to learn because it’s the hardest to believe. It’s still hard for me to believe too.

There are so many days where you think you’re damaged permanently. You think you’re a shattered cup just waiting to be swept away and dropped in the trash. But it won’t last. Some days you care just enough to drag yourself to a campfire and see smiling faces greeting you. Some days you decide to eat three meals, and amaze yourself when you actually do. Never mind that all you had was a bowl of cereal for breakfast and an apple for lunch. You went to the table and you ate.

And you relapse too. There are days when you think it’s better to fade, that you’ve been wasting too much of your friend’s time. There are times when your living sister only reminds you of your dead one. There are times when you suspect every nice gesture extended towards you is simply pity or guilt.

They’re like trapdoors, just lying in wait for you to step in and fall through. You think you’re better but then your demons get you, and you start wondering why bother trying if you can’t get better quicker.

But Will’s been telling me it’s okay to fall, and so have Jason, Annabeth and Percy. It’s the little things that keep you safe. It’s lounging in the sunlight with them, listening to Jason and Percy argue. It’s smiling at Will and seeing him smile back.

There was a long time when I thought not having nightmares and controlling my mood swings was the best I could hope for. Daily happiness hadn’t even crossed my mind. I thought not looking my shoulder every few seconds was the endgame I wanted.

In January when it was cold and I had an excuse to lock myself in my cabin, Hazel came over to visit. At first I let her talk about her about Camp Jupiter, and how the Fifth Cohort was doing. “Frank’s becoming a great praetor. He and Reyna are great together. They’re like the good cop and bad cop routine.”

I smiled and said, “I’m glad they’re doing well. They sound scary together.”

“They are. They’re not allowed to be on the same team on war games.”

“What about you and Frank? Distracting him from his praetorship?”

Hazel blushed and elbowed me. Two silver coins popped in between the floorboards. “We’ve been doing great. It’s like we’re getting to know each other all over again after the war with Gaea.” She squeezed my hand an asked, “And what about you? Got your eye on anyone?”

I jerked and tried not to think about Percy sitting by the canoe lake with his legs dangling in the water. Oddly enough, memories of Will’s arm around my shoulder and the way he smelt of disinfectant flashed through my mind. I remembered the time I had a flashback and Will held my hand through it all, talking slowly and clearly, letting me know where I was.

I know, I was a dumb, emotionally stunted fourteen year old in denial. Sue me.

Anyways, Hazel frowned in concern and gradually leaned into me. After it was clear I didn’t mind the physical contact, she asked, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” I shook my head and jumped to my feet. “Do you want to see Jason? He’s back after a stint building temples to the desert gods in Nevada.”

Hazel cradled my hand in both of hers and tugged me back to the bed. “You know you can tell me if there’s something wrong, right?”

I thought back to the times I had huddled on this bed and cried myself to sleep. I thought back to just a few days ago when I couldn’t muster the energy to even roll out of bed. But I nodded.

“So what is it?” Hazel asked.

I shrugged and lied, “I just had this argument with Will the other day. But it’s fine now.”

Hazel didn’t respond. I looked over to see her glaring at me. It seemed uncharacteristic of her, and I pulled away. “Don’t lie to me, Nico.” She said. “You were there for me in Camp Jupiter, when I was lost. Now let me help you.”

I don’t know how to describe what Hazel looked like then. It wasn’t the way sunlight lit up her face, it wasn’t her smile or the way her eyes twinkled at me. My heartbeat stuttered and I croaked. “I didn’t have an argument with Will.”

Hazel tilted her head but didn’t say anything. She let me take my time. I fixed my gaze on the two coins sitting on the floor. I gulped and said, “I sort of, well, like him.”

I waited for Hazel to say something. I didn’t dare look at her. I didn’t want to see disgust, or worse, disappointment. I remembered Bianca telling me, decades ago when our mom was still alive, that guys only like girls and girls only like guys. She said this as she gripped my wrist tightly. I had just babbled about the handsome boy I saw living across the street from us.

After five quick heartbeats (yes, I counted) Hazel said, “It doesn’t matter who you love, Nico. I’ll always love you.”

“It’s not love.” I stammered, “We barely know each other. It’s more like attraction. Or a crush. I mean—“

Hazel laughed and hugged me. “It’s okay. You don’t have to work it all out now. Things will make more sense when you’re older.”

I smiled down at her and asked, “Speaking from experience?”

Hazel nodded and said, “Come on. Let’s go outside. I want to meet this Will guy.”

“Wait, no.” I scrambled after her and she darted out the door. As I ran I felt myself unraveling, like all the tension in my stomach was draining out of me. I chased Hazel all around camp and by the end of it we were howling with laughter as we staggered after each other.

People were staring at us, but for once I didn’t care. There was a bubbling sensation in my stomach when I tackled Hazel to the ground and we lay in the shade of a tree together. It was more than I had ever hoped for.

I don’t want you to get the wrong idea here. It’s not like I was completely fine after that. There were still days where I skipped meals just because, or when I didn’t want to see anyone. But they’re getting further and further apart, and you know what? Each time I take a step back, I know that I can get better.

I’m better already, but I think I can get even better than that. I actually apologized to Will a few days ago. Not the _sorry for being such a bad friend, don’t bother with me_ stuff, but an actual apology.

“Will, I want to say something to you, but first you have to promise not to interrupt.” I said after I had cornered Will on the way to the mess hall. His mouth gaped and he started sweating. I know why he was so nervous now, but of course it flew past my head back then.

“I’m sorry. I’ve said a lot of things I shouldn’t have these past months, and you didn’t deserve it.” I took a deep breath and added, “Thanks for always being there for me.”

Will’s mouth was still open, and he hadn’t blinked since I started talking. I thought about what I had told Hazel, and without thinking, embraced Will. He stiffened even more, if that was possible, and at first it was like hugging a rigid tree branch. But then he slowly relaxed and wrapped his arms around me.

I haven’t actually told him. I think that comes later, once I’m really better. But I’ll get there, there’s no doubt about it. I know I’ll get better.

That’s the last rule I’ve got for you. I don’t know what you’ve gone through, because Tartarus is different for everyone. It tries to kill you in the most horrific and also the sneakiest ways possible. It sometimes tries to get you to kill yourself, do its dirty work for you.

But you’re stronger than you know. I know I am. I don’t know why you’re reading this, or how badly you need help surviving Tartarus, but if there’s one thing I want you to remember, it’s that you get better.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I hope you enjoyed reading it. I've got a lot of practice screwing characters over, but this is one of the first where they start to get better. So tell me what you think. Feedback and opinions are always appreciated! Thanks for reading.


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